Since the risings started there are many tales you could tell One person's liberation may be another's prison cell When authority collapses, many things can take its place Sectarian nightmares and liberated space Some are hunting for the heathens, set to form a Caliphate Some are fighting for their survival, and for a socialist state Such as in the north of Syria, just south of PKK A city's name that's whispered in the wind Kobane
The town grew up with the railway from Baghdad to Berlin Soon became a refuge for those fleeing the Sultan In Syria they called it Land of the Arab Spring No one knew what movements history would bring A city full of Kurdish people divided from the rest Cut off to the east, forsaken by the West The only sensible thing to do was run away But instead thousands stood and fought Kobane
Students met in Suruc, wise beyond their years And the leaders of the world all shed crocodile tears When the bombs went off they said this cannot stand The same ones who kept the aid out from those who'd try to lend a hand The same men who kept the aid out, the very same ones Who didn't want the PYG to have ammo for their guns As to the future of the city, no one alive can say But its name sails across the borders KobaneTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
